NEW: AMAZON ARTIFACT 7/8 (M/F cs ama. trans.)
Lingster
Standard caveats apply: if you're a minor or a religious fanatic or anybody
who might not like reading about girls outgrowing their boyfriends, stop
here. Also, if you live somewhere in the Levant, stop here, too. I don't
want the minions of Allah putting out a million dollar contract on me, like
that mullah in Tehran did to that Rushdie guy, and then chasing me around
the planet for the rest of my life. In real life I'm a nice guy, I promise
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Lingster
Standard caveats apply: if you're a minor or a religious fanatic or anybody
who might not like reading about girls outgrowing their boyfriends, stop
here. Also, if you live somewhere in the Levant, stop here, too. I don't
want the minions of Allah putting out a million dollar contract on me, like
that mullah in Tehran did to that Rushdie guy, and then chasing me around
the planet for the rest of my life. In real life I'm a nice guy, I promise
Amazon Artifact 7
When Jennie awoke, she heard in her ears the same
roaring white sound that had disoriented her the night
she first drained Bill's strength.
Color perception skewed randomly, blotches of neon
cloudiness drifting randomly across her field of
vision, she vaguely recognized Alex and Melodie
holding back a crowd of women. Everything looked as
though it were being viewed through an old TV with a
bum "tint" knob.
She reached for the locker room bench to pull herself
up, and was surprised when she ripped it from its
mountings like it was made of papier mache. Standing
up, her head smashed into a hanging light, sending
random brightness and shadow flailing about the
technicolor nightmare locker room.
Everyone looked up at her, slack-jawed and
openmouthed. "What are they looking at?" she
wondered, until she realized that even Melodie was
looking up, and Melodie stood 6'2" (190 cm). She
looked down at herself, and realized that she'd grown
to a ridiculously tremendous size. Reaching for her
bowling ball bag, she opened it hastily, to see how
much the OOPA had shrunk this time.
The OOPA was gone. "Did I absorb the whole thing?"
Jennie wondered.
One of the woman in the crowd shouted, "Make me grow,
too! Please!"
Others began to join in. As Jennie came to her
senses, she realized that there were nearly two dozen
young coeds present.
Jennie raised her arm to silence the crowd, setting
off a panoply of disasters: Her outraged clothing
shredded from her wrist to her shoulder on the raised
arm. Still not accustomed to her new height and
incredibly enhanced strength, her arm plowed up
through the ceiling tiles, severing a sprinkler line
and jetting water over the entire crowd.
"Holy SHIT," Jennie remarked, "I'm almost 7 feet tall
(215 cm)!"
She noticed a gold Wonder Woman-style bracelet on her
arm, and proceeded to examine herself for further
ornament. She discovered that beneath the remnants of
her clothes she was wearing a bizarre costume that
looked exactly like something off the cover of an
Edgar Rice Burroughs novel.
She tore off her rags and stood unfettered in her
Goddess outfit, water showering down on her. Her
muscularity and pneumatic endowments were staggering,
outclassing anything she'd ever seen by an absurd
degree.
The crowd of females gasped collectively at Jennie's
remarkably imposing size. They began squealing,
pleading for the enhancement that was hers to bestow.
"SILENCE!" Jennie ordered, staggered by the
indescribable sexual authority in her voice.
Every member of the crowd dropped to her knees, Alex
and Mel included. "Each of you will bring a man of
bad character to the southeast corner of the Douglass
Campus at 10:30 tomorrow night. IT MUST BE A MAN OF
BAD CHARACTER, a man who would rape you given the
chance."
Every member of the crowd nodded, entranced.
"I will allow each of you to drain sufficient strength
from the man you bring such that you become as strong
as he, and he as weak as you. I will not allow you to
absorb the strength of GOOD men. Bring the worst,
strongest men you can find, girls. Tell no one of
this. I am Qoataxatata, and I HAVE SPOKEN."
"Alexandra, Melodie, attend me."
"Y-yes Jen..., uh, Qoataxatata?" Alex whispered.
"Come with me."
Jennie strode out the locker room, her shoulders and
head challenging the dimensions of the door frame.
Her gold mesh bikini top provided tremendous support,
but even still, her mammoth breasts swayed and bounced
with an obscene voluptuousness. "I look like the
earth mother on steroids," Jennie thought.
Jennie walked to her car and told Alex and Mel to get
in. Her presence on the open street caused a
tremendous commotion, two cars collided at the
intersection, and both drivers got out and stared at
her. She realized that everyone within sight was also
staring right at her.
It was clear there'd be no way for her enormous body
to fit in Milo's bartender's car as is, so she ripped
the driver's seat out and put it in the trunk. She
drove from the back seat. "I need a Winnebago," she
remarked to her companions, "But first I need some
clothes. Where's the nearest dressmaker or tailor?"
"A block away," Melodie offered, "across from the
train station."
"And Jennie," Alex asked, "how did you do that? I
mean, inspire that REVERENCE?"
"I'm a goddess, Alex, reverence is a perk."
"From back here it looks like there are a coupl'a
perks," Alex remarked, "your boobs are big enough to
petition the Union for statehood."
Jennie drove the short distance and parked the car
just outside the shop. "Come on," she said.
The three amazons sprinted into the dress shop, doing
their best, but failing miserably, to avoid notice.
When they entered the shop, the 16-year old girl
behind the counter fainted at the sight of Jennie.
After waking the young seamstress up, Jennie tried to
ease her fear, "I am the incarnation of the goddess
Qoataxatata, patron deity of female power. I can see,
in your mind, that your boyfriend sometimes hits you.
Assist me in fulfilling my needs and I will endow you
with sufficient strength to repel his assaults"
The girl swallowed hard, her eyes wide, nodded, and
got to her feet. "My name is Barbara, what can I help
you with?"
"I require clothing, Barbara, as do my acolytes.
The material must be baggy, yet flexible enough to
withstand sudden...strains. The stitching must also
be durable."
"Sounds like you want a cotton/lycra weave, I've got
50 yards of it in the back. Let me get your
measurements. I'll take you first, Miss...Coax
Tatas?"
"Qoataxatata," Jennie corrected, "but you may call me
Jennie."
"Okay, let's see, you're...six-foot-nine (207 cm),
your chest is, <gulp> 53 (136 cm) inches beneath the
bustline, 72 inches (185 cm)across the breasts That
makes you an <gulp gulp> 'N' Cup. Wow."
"Waist 38 (95 cm), Hips 52 (130 cm), your inseam is,
uh, 40 (102 cm), and your neck is 20 (56 cm)inches
around."
"You're arms are pretty, uh, big. Why don't you flex
so that I can take them into account." Jennie flexed
her arm, and Barbara reached up from her position on
the stool, ready to measure.
"Wait," Jennie said. She began flexing again and
again, pumping her arms in the air. Each time, her
biceps and triceps bulged larger and larger. The law
of diminishing returns finally kicked in, but not
before all three onlookers' faces had taken on
expressions of complete shock.
"Thirty....six inches (92 cm) around. Holy Christ,"
Barbara offered, flexing her own 7 inches (18 cm) of
silly-putty consistency upper arm in comparison.
"I'm going to need some help getting the fabric ready,
could one of you muscle girls help me carry it in?"
Barbara asked.
Jennie grabbed Barbara by the back of her trousers and
held her aloft before her. Feeling the strength of
several men within her buffer, she said to Barbara,
"You're not going to need any help."
With her free left hand, she unbuttoned the entranced
Barbara's blouse, and then unzipped the fly on her
trousers. Adjusting her right hand's grip so that her
thumb plunged deep into Barbara's vagina, she arched
it to unerringly poke at her G-Spot. Her left hand's
thumb and pinky compressed Barbara's girlish bosom so
that her index and ring fingers connected to the
nipples.
Somehow she knew that this was the best and most
efficient way to initiate a transfer: positive and
negative terminals.
"Time to turn on the juice," Jennie said.
Blue fire shot out of all of Barbara's mucus
membranes, suffusing her in a glowing haze that
reflected off of the sweaty film that covered her
skin. She grew like kudzu in Georgia clay.
Hard, defined muscles erupted through her clothing,
even as stringy pectoral muscles burst into existence
on her naked chest, struggling to free her swelling
breasts from Jennie's grasp.
After about 20 seconds, Jennie set Barbara down, still
trembling, steam rolling off her vastly improved body.
When she stood up, her wet, unbuttoned blouse clinging
to the eruption of vascular and lactiferous tissues
below. She stood nearly 6 feet (185 cm-)in height, and
her jeans clung to her ass and legs as if they'd been
painted on, the cuffs torn to shreds just below her
knees. "My God," Barbara said, "Look at me! And my
pants! I don't know how I'll be able to get these
off."
Barbara flexed her right arm and gasped. "It's bigger
than my boyfriend's!" Grabbing the tape measure and
quickly spooling it around, "16 inches (41 cm)!?
Holy shit! And FEEL it, it's twice as hard as his,
too. I'm stronger than my boyfriend! I'm STRONGER
than my BOYFRIEND!"
Striking an impressive double-bicep that caused her
blouse to be pulled backward and leave her enormous
breasts exposed for the first time, Barbara cackled
wickedly. "Wait till the next time he picks on me!
And best of all," she said, cupping her exploded mams,
"he'll never notice my new muscles 'til it's too late,
his eyes will be stuck to my new 'E' cups!"
It took Barbara a few hours to whip up matching
outfits for her three new companions and herself.
When it was done, and they were all wearing their new
costumes, they looked like a members of a college
basketball team.
Having six hours to kill, the four amazons removed
themselves to a secure location, a dark pub catty
corner from the gym where the day's earlier antics had
transpired.
Jennie was telling the girls the story of the last few
days, including her sporadic growth spurts, and the
Namoza Corp. conspiracy.
"I agree with her!" Melodie argued. "Men should be
weaker than women, look at how they abuse us!"
"That's true, Mel," Jennie argued, "but why would it
be different if WE were stronger? Don't you think
powerful women might abuse men?"
"Who cares?" Melodie retorted.
"It's not gender, it's empathy," Alex concluded. "You
need to make BAD people weak, so they can't hurt
others."
"Exactly," Jennie agreed, "and that's why we're luring
the scummiest, most abusive guys in town to campus
tomorrow night."
"You can TELL that they're scum?" Melodie asked.
"Yes....somehow." Jennie pointed to a couple sitting
at the bar, 15 feet (4.6 m) away. "See them?"
All four examined the couple. Both were dressed in
"biker" style: black leather, white cotton. "Guy
looks like a real scumbag, right?"
Everyone agreed that he did.
"He's not. He never cheats, he never hits. She,
however, fucks around on him all the time, and she
knocked him unconscious with a frying pan last week,"
Jennie said. "The power relationship there is
perfect, to make him weak and her strong would not be
the right thing to do."
"That yuppie bodybuilder guy over there, however," she
pointed to a powerful, muscular guy in a polo shirt
sitting with an attractive, big chested, skinny girl,
"raped a girl two years ago, and slapped his
girlfriend, sitting with him, around last month when
she told him she was pregnant. She's since aborted
the fetus, and hasn't slept more than 2 hours a night
since."
"I've been watching them since I came in. If he
kisses her, she's going to have a lot more going for
her than big tits and a pretty face."
All the girls laughed.
They sat around, telling stories and laughing. Around
sunset, the other girls noticed Jennie's head jerk
suddenly to the entrance.
"What, what is it?" Barbara asked.
"Nothing," Jennie said, "I thought I saw somebody I
knew."
"But it wasn't her," she lied.
Jennie peeled off $500 from her wad. I want you guys
to get out of here, now, and meet me in Washington,
D.C. in five days at Fletcher's Boathouse, on the
Potomac near the south end of Arizona Avenue.
The three girls nodded, aware that something odd had
just happened, but not suspecting the truth, that
Jennie had just seen Regina Namoza walking by outside
the bar.
"Jennie, before we go, I think I should tell you
soemthing," Alex said, "In the last few hours, just
SITTING with you, I've gotten stronger. Not the 20-
fold increase you gave me before, but maybe another 10
percent since we came in here - I can feel it. Is it
possible you make women stronger just by being NEAR
them?"
"I don't know," Jennie responded, "we'll need to test
that. Barbara, Melodie, do you feel stronger since
coming in here?"
"Maybe," Melodie said, "it's hard to tell, I've gotten
so STRONG today, I couldn't honestly say about small
changes."
"Me too," Barbara agreed, "maybe I'll be able to tell
later. I'm going to head home now and arm-wrestle my
boyfriend."
After her associates left, Jennie ordered a Guinness.
She took a long time drinking it, concentrating on the
yuppie and his big-boobed girlfriend at the bar.
"If these powers work in different ways than I'd
thought, maybe I can affect a strength transfer
without physical contact...."
Suddenly, the big chested girl looked as if she was
experiencing extreme pleasure. She arched her back
and stretched her arms behind her. Her large breasts
surged forward, and a number of eyes in the bar
covertly examined them. After a few seconds of
pressure, a button popped off her blouse and poked her
boyfriend in the face.
"What the hell was THAT!?" He exclaimed.
"I...I don't KNOW," she whispered, "My breasts are,
tingly, they're...ohmyGOD...they're bigger!"
"Holy SHIT! They ARE bigger, Stephanie" he agreed,
"and...and they're growing! Look at them! This is
great! I can't wait till my friends see you like
this! Nobody's got tits like yours, now!"
Half the bar was staring at the girl's swelling bosom
as it visibly inflated. "Oh, no! They were too big
already!" she complained, "I'm a freak. What am I
going to do? They were already too much weight for me
to carry around." "Although," she thought, "actually,
they don't feel THAT heavy."
Steve was licking his lips, as his formerly 'D' cupped
girlfriend swelled into the 'F' cup category. "I've
never even seen breasts that big before, Stef..." he
reached out and grabbed her swollen mams, "and they're
firmer, too!"
"Steve! Not in public...people are watching, please,"
she whined.
"Shut up," he grabbed her wrist and twisted it, "let's
go home - I want to tit-fuck you."
"Owww...OWWWW, NO!" she cried, when suddenly she
managed to pull her arm away from him.
"STEVE, you jerk! I should....uh, oooohh, my whole
body feels so, so GOOOOD....Steve, so STRONG" the
voluptuous girl said, "LOOK! It's not just my breasts
that have grown, look at my arms and legs! I've got
muscles!" She flexed her arm, and a small-but-
powerful looking bicep swelled up. "My body looks
like I've been pumping iron for years! I could
compete in a bodybuilding contest with these muscles,
don't you think? And I think I'm still growing! I
feel so strong, and my whole body feels so hard! I
should have started lifting weights YEARS ago! Don't
I look good?"
Steve got up off his stool, and took a few steps
backward, shocked. No longer watching his
girlfriend's growing bosom, he began nervously
watching the swelling, hardening deltoids and biceps
her sleeveless dress left exposed. He began to show
signs of anxiety. "Uh...yeah," he agreed, "you look
great."
Veins began to pop up beneath her skin as the muscles
beneath began to achieve a level of density more
commmon to males, but still her muscles swelled and
grew.
"I AM still growing, and I feel incredibly strong!"
Stephanie blurted out.
Unconsciously, Steve flexed and grabbed his own left
bicep, then shifted his hand's position as a person
might when having trouble finding a pulse. Panic
washed across his face.
His girlfriend smiled, "I don't know if it's just
because I'm getting so much bigger, but...you look
smaller to me. Even...weaker. A lot weaker."
Stephanie got off her stool and approached her
dwindling boyfriend. "I'm only a few inches shorter
than you! I used to be nearly a foot (31 cm) less,
and you ARE shrinking! Look at how baggy your clothes
are getting. Your arms aren't stretching your sleeves
anymore."
"Stay away from me!" he protested.
She grabbed him by his upper arms, "Your muscles have
shrunk, too! HA HA! They're starting to feel like a
girl's arms, Steve, small and soft, if this keeps up,
I'll be STRONGER than you in no time!"
"No....NO!" he shouted.
"Somehow, I'm stealing your strength! You're getting
weaker, and I'm getting stronger! I'll bet I'm going
to get as strong as you were, and you're going to be
as weak as I was!"
"Look at you! All that iron pumping you do, and you
don't look any stronger than a regular guy anymore,"
Stephanie gloated, "In fact, you're starting to look
kind of like those puny guys you make fun of. I, on
the other hand, am beginning to look like a Ms.
Universe contender."
"Let me go, let me GO!" he screamed. Steve struggled
to get away from her, but Stephanie held him fast;
they were too equally matched for him to throw her
off.
Suddenly, the seams of Stephanie's sleeveless dress
began to snap as large, powerful lats and pecs tore
through the sides. Her dress was piling up, wedgie-
style in the bulging cleavage between her breasts.
The definition and size of her arms and legs was
beginning to approach male-bodybuilder standards.
"Look, I'm taller than you, now! And stronger, so
MUCH stronger! Your arms feel like marshmallows -
flex them," Stephanie commanded.
Steve glared up at her, "I AM."
"You ARE flexing? You are, aren't you! HA HA! One
of the things I USED to like about you, Steve, were
those big, rock-hard grapefruit-sized biceps you
had...but now they're feeling like waterlogged tennis,
uh, ping-pong balls. Marbles? Whoops, where'd they
go? You just lost them."
She giggled, "Oh my GOD, tee hee! I can't find your
biceps, Steve...your triceps are gone, too...and your
delts feel like tenderized chicken breasts. You've
hardly got any muscles left at all. Look, I can fit
my hand all the way around your puny arm!"
"But look at mine! They're almost as big as yours
used to be, and growing so FAST! Frankly, I think
those big, juicy biceps look a lot better on my arms!"
She reached around behind him and grabbed his ass,
"Ooooohh, that tight butt of yours has gotten pretty
soft, too. And is that your thigh? Your ARM used to
be thicker than that weak, spindly thing."
"N-no," he stuttered, "this isn't happening."
"Oh, it IS happening, Steve. I think I'm as big and
strong as you used to be, and you're as small and weak
as I was. You're weak! HA HA! And HOLY SHIT, it's
not stopping! I thought we were just trading places,
but it's still happening; I'm stronger now than you've
ever been! And you're becoming a joke."
"You're getting weaker and weaker every second. I
LOVE this strength, and it's even more satisfying that
you're getting so weak, it's like a dream come true.
Are you even really a man anymore?"
"No...I'm not as weak as you were...I can't be!" He
squealed.
"Hate to tell you this, Steve-o, but I was really
weak, even for a woman - the other girls used to make
fun of how little upper body strength I had. They'd
push me around and make me arm wrestle them - they
were jealous of my big tits. I ALWAYS lost the arm-
wrestling matches. And NOW you're even smaller and
weaker now than *I* used to be. If this keeps up,
women will be able to kick your puny, soft ass without
even trying."
"This isn't possible," Steve said, "I...I'm a jock! I
pump iron four times a week! My bench press is 285!"
"Face facts! You're as small and weak as my 13-year-
old sister, and getting smaller by the second, Steve!
How does it feel to be a weakling? I know now that
being strong feels GREAT! I used to be weak, and now
I'm stronger than you ever were. Look at the size of
me!"
"And you know what," she taunted, "I'll bet I'm not
just draining your size and strength, but your ability
to build muscle, too. I'll bet that no matter how
much you work out, now, you'll never get bigger or
stonger. You're a weakling for life!"
Steve looked up, ruefully, at his tremendous
girlfriend. His eyes were now even with her
watermelon-sized breasts, but they kept getting bigger
and higher, especially from his shrinking perspective.
Stephanie struck a double bicep pose, and Steve stood
on tip-toes and grabbed one of his girlfriend's
massive upper arms. "It's not fair," he cried in a
high-pitched voice, "mine were never anywhere near as
big as yours are now! These muscles should be mine!
I worked for them!"
Stephanie snorted and grasped both of his slender
wrists together in her left hand, like the stems of a
bouquet of flowers, and lifted him, one-armed, off the
ground, straight out in front of her. Stephanie
pressed Steve's 25-inch chest (64 cm) into the crevice
between her own spathic, hypertrophied milk-producing
organs. His pants and shoes fell off, and his polo
shirt dangled to his knees.
He closed his eyes and screamed.
"What's the matter? You were always fascinated by my
tits before...and they're, I don't know, 5 times
bigger than they used to be? I'll bet each of these
monsters weighs nearly as much as you do! Can't you
break your skinny, big-tit girlfriend's grip, and feel
her up in public, like you did before? Don't you want
to feel me up again?"
She shoved her enormous breasts into his face "You
should love these, now!"
She curled her right arm and watched as an enormous
bicep swelled up, easily 25-inches (64 cm)around. "I've
got the muscles you worked and dreamed for, Steve, but,
like most men, never had any hope of building; and
you," she smiled, her voice suddenly becoming deeper,
"you're the smallest, puniest, weakest MAN I've ever
seen. An eight-year-old GIRL could beat you
armwrestling, now, and you're STILL shrinking, still
feeding my body's growth. I'm so big and strong, it's
like I'm not just taking your strength and size, but
all of your life energy, too. You're starting to look
like a fuzzy, purple little prune. I think I'm two or
three times as strong as you used to be."
Steve was now only about 4 feet tall (123 cm), and his
body was completely demuscled - the bones of his
elbows protruded sickeningly from his arms. Jennie
guessed that he weighed about 40 pounds (18 kg). He'd
weighed about 220 (99 kg) coming in. His skin had
become so thin and frail that it was nearly
translucent. His weak lungs could be heard rasping
for breath across the room.
"Stephanie, please STOP!" he squealed with a voice
that sounded like a kitten mewling, "My life is
ruined! My body's ruined - women will ignore me or
push me around! And you're HURTING me."
"Hurting you? Like you hurt me? When you slapped me
around? When you made me kill our baby? Ruined life?
It's good that ruining your life has improved mine so
much." She tightened her grip, Steve screamed, and
passed out, both of his tiny wrists effortlessly
broken. "We're breaking up, Steve, I couldn't date a
man who's such a weakling. Although it might be hard
to find guys powerful enough to outclass the muscles
you've given me, now that I'm stronger than the
average NFL line-backer. I'm sure women will still
chase you around, only now it won't be to seduce you,
it will be to get even for the cruelty you doled out."
Stephanie dropped his tiny body on the floor, and
walked out - six-foot-six-inches (200 cm) and 315
pounds (142 kg)of of staggeringly well-muscled, big
chested femininity. She was naked as a jaybird, and
her big tits swayed before her like a pair of
elephants in a circus parade.
Jennie chuckled. "Enough fun," she thought, "now I
have to deal with Namoza. There's gonna be a rumble,"
Jennie said to herself, wiping her beer mustache off
her upper lip, "I might as well strike first." She
got up and walked out the door.